


Final Release

by junko



Series: Strawberrry Fields Forever [11]
Category: Bleach, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dumbledore arrives at the Vizard's training grounds with news that many people at Hogwart's assume that Ichigo is dead.  Urahara and Dumbledore make plans for Ichigo's future, and it may or may not be at Hogwart's....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Release

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, you should read runtDuchess' ["All Hollow's Fright" (Strawberry Fields Forever 10.5)?"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373317) which was written as a gift work to me, and which is so delightful that I consider it 'canon' to this series!
> 
> Secondly, this is the final installment. I've been having trouble figuring out where I wanted to go with this series, so this is THE END. However, you'll see I've left things open ended, and OB-viously (as Snape would say), I'm open to fan works of my fan work, so you can always write your own continuation! I encourage it, in fact!!
> 
> Also, I marked this general, but there is a warning for strong language. This is Ichigo. Expect swearing.

Ichigo had just about mastered keeping his mask on for all of five seconds when the big pink-haired dude—Hachi?—squealed. The cry distracted Ichigo, and, out of nowhere, pig-tailed fang-girl’s flip-flop was in his face again, smashing the mask and evaporating all his power. He landed on the sand hard, his breath knocked out. The kidō barrier collapsed soon after. 

But if the barrier was down, that meant trouble. 

With his lungs on fire, Ichigo pulled himself to his feet. He tightened his grip on Zangetsu and jumped into the air to get a better vantage point. 

Drawing in his reiatsu, Ichigo readied Getsuga Tensho. 

All the Vizards were staring at… Dumbledore. He was doddering along the sand like he invaded super-secret training grounds for shits and giggles every day. 

Kensei, the big white haired-bruiser with the eyebrow piercings, crossed his arms and frowned at the approaching wizard with the same irritable disapproval he gave everything. Green-haired Mashiro peeked out behind Kensei’s shoulder, her fingers on her goggles like she’d lifted them for a better view. Love tore himself from his manga and scratched his giant, puffball, star-shaped Afro, and jabbed Rose in the ribs. Rose blinked like he was waking up from some happy daydream. Lisa stood up slowly, her eyes narrow behind her glasses. Hiyori looked ready to charge, but Ichigo held up his hand to hold the little terror back.

Shinji, of course, sauntered over, while shouting, “Hey, Old Man in the dress! This is a private party, dig?”

“Ichigo?” Dumbledore said, looking over the edge of his half-moon glasses and scanning the sandy dunes. “Translation, please?”

Kensei frowned down at Ichigo. “Friend of yours, huh? Should’ve figured.”

Could Dumbledore see Ichigo in his shinigami form? In case he couldn’t, Ichigo thought he’d better step back into… ah, crap-on-a-stick, where the hell was his body, anyway? Had Fred and George run off with it? What the heck was he thinking losing track of like that? Ichigo actually found himself missing Kon at this moment. The guy was hell on Ichigo’s reputation, but at least he kept his body safe.

“Seriously, you need to scram, vamoose, skedaddle, get the fuck out, okay? You weren’t even supposed to get past our defenses. Not sure what you did there, old guy—magic? Well, it ain’t cool. So turn your ass around and go home.” Shinji said as he marched along with Dumbledore. Shinji also looked to Ichigo, “Oi, Ichigo, can you tell this guy to get lost?”

“Did none of you morons learn English?” Ichigo asked. Sheathing Zangetsu, he dropped down out of the sky to meet the headmaster. 

Rose shrugged, “I speak Dutch.”

“I have a little Portuguese,” Hachi murmured.

Ichigo ignored them as they all started enumerating the various languages they’d learned over the last hundred-whatever years, especially since someone, and Ichigo wasn’t even sure who, was already talking about the ‘language of love.’ He rolled his eyes. 

“You can see me, Dumbledore-sensei?”

“Quite well. Your outfit is very… stylish, almost like a wizard’s robes. Very nice, indeed,” Dumbledore said with a little waggle of his eyebrows. “However, I’m afraid this isn’t exactly a social call. I’ve just received word that your absence has caused quite a panic back at Hogwarts. You’re to return with me.”

Shinji had his hands on his narrow hips. Leaning in, he stared back and forth between Ichigo and Dumbledore, frowning. Ichigo turned to him and translated, “He can see me and thinks my bankai shihakushō looks cute or something, I dunno. Anyway, the professor says I got to go back to school.”

“You got weird-looking teachers, Ichigo.” Shinji noted. He took a moment to adjust his hat to a jauntier angle. “You realize you’re still shit at controlling your mask, right?” 

Ichigo shrugged. It was deeply infuriating to him how hard the mask-thing was to master. Almost everything he’d done previous to this came to him quickly, almost naturally. He really struggled with this stupid thing for some reason. It’d be a relief to get away from the constant, frustrating training, but on the other hand Shinji kind of had a point.

To Dumbledore, Ichigo said, “I have a… thing I need to learn to control. These guys are helping me. They don’t think I’m ready yet and, as much as it ticks me off, I sort of agree.”

Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard. “Alas, word of your death reached your father. He’s gone to Hogwarts to collect your body.”

Ah, shit! Dummo Dad at Hogwarts? What was that even like? And, if dad thought Ichigo was dead, what about Karin and Yuzu? He turned to Shinji and said, “I got to go.”

“It’s your funeral, man,” Shinji shrugged.

“Yeah,” Ichigo agreed. “It kind of is.”

#

Dumbledore could not look more out of place at Urahara’s Shoten, but, since he’d apparently come via something called a ‘port key,’ they needed to stop off. Of course, Hat-and-Clogs insisted they stay for tea. 

“I thought we were in a hurry,” Ichigo grumbled, settling down at the low table. 

“Politeness only takes a minute,” Dumbledore admonished.

“Says the guy who stuck chopsticks up in my nattō,” Ichigo said. “Rude. And you knew it.”

Tessai came in with a tray of candies and set it out on the table. Dumbledore made appreciative noises. After a quick grace was said and some pocky consumed, Dumbledore looked over his glasses at Urahara and said, “So, Kisuke, what shall we do?”

“I think we should consider that exchange we discussed,” Urahara said as he poured tea.

What exchange? Were they talking about him? Ichigo tried to read Urahara’s expression, but as usual his eyes were hidden under that green-and-white striped hat. 

It was kind of strange that both his teachers had distinctive hats. Until this moment, Ichigo had never really thought about how much Urahara’s dorky bucket hat was a lot like a wizard’s pointy, star-spangled cap. Like a wizard, Urahara was hardly ever without it, even in places where it might be odd to still be wearing a hat, like over a dinner—or was it lunchtime?—table. Regardless, it suddenly occurred to Ichigo to wonder if there was significance to Urahara’s hat, beyond a pathetic fashion sense? Did it signal to foreign wizards that he was one of them?

And was he?

“Yes, somehow we knew it’d come to this, didn’t we?” Dumbledore said.

Wait, had he missed something? Ichigo strained to catch up. But, either they were talking in riddles or in some code he couldn’t fathom, because Urahara’s response made no sense.

Urahara nodded as he took a sip of tea, “I think mine would overstep yours otherwise, don’t you think?”

Were they talking about him? They better not be talking about him, Ichigo thought. He wasn’t anybody’s anything. 

“Probably. If for no other reason than that yours seems overzealously overprotective,” Dumbledore said around a sip of tea. “Mine doesn’t need a big brother.”

Yeah, okay, they were definitely talking about him. 

Probably.

“Can we go yet?” Ichigo asked. “I could be training, you know. Shouldn’t you have talked all this out before?”

Urahara and Dumbledore gave Ichigo similarly strange smiles. “Who said we didn’t?” they said in unison.

#

Dummo Dad, of course, noticed the moment Ichigo stepped into the infirmary. Of course, Isshin tried to act like he hadn’t seen Ichigo’s spirit form, but their eyes met over the issue of the Quibbler he was puzzling through. Karin didn’t even pretend. She glared up at him, from where sat beside his body on the cot and mouthed, “You’re in big trouble, dickwad.”

“Rude,” he said, poking her on the nose, before slipping inside the cold, heavy thing. 

Dang. His muscles felt stiff from lack of use and his mouth was horribly dry. Ichigo coughed and blinked open his eyes. Another reason to keep Kon around, it seemed. His stomach felt hollow and empty and he had to pee like a racehorse. Ichigo had barely struggled upright, however, before Karin’s left hook slammed into his cheek, sending Ichigo crashing off the cot. Dad sidestepped Ichigo’s flailing limbs neatly. He shot Ichigo a ‘the least you deserve’ glance before returning to the magazine. Meanwhile, Karin had clambered over the cot and was launching herself at Ichigo again. This time Ichigo got out of the way with a swift roll to the right, “Whoa! Chill!”

“Chill? Chill! Are you kidding me? I should pound you into next week! We were so worried, Ichi-nii! People are crying over your sorry ass! They’re ready to hold a funeral! They made dad miss classes!”

“I actually don’t mind that part so much,” Isshin said, turning his magazine as though trying to read something printed sideways, as Ichigo and Karin tumbled at his feet.

Ichigo didn’t fight too hard. After all, he kind of deserved this. Letting Karin land a few punches was better than any fake-ass sounding apology he could try to make. But, damn it, she hit hard. That last one felt like it’d left Zangetsu clanging deep in his soul. If she landed one on his gut he was sure to piss himself. 

Madame Pomfrey came running with a clip of anxious heels. “My goodness!” she exclaimed seeing Ichigo awake and his sister scrabbling after him. “Stop this at once, children!”

“Oi, you kids, knock it off!” Isshin said in English, apparently finally deciding he’d better act like a real dad. Setting down his magazine, Isshin made a grab for both of them as though to pick them up by their collars or ears. They both jumped to their feet avoiding getting nabbed, Ichigo automatically rolling up into a fighting stance. Opposite him, Karin did the same.

“Such violence!” Madame Pomfrey continued, sounding utterly horrified, “Please, no more of this insanity until I can examine the patient.”

Ichigo realized that probably meant him. He was, after all, standing around in some kind of weird, thin white cotton yukata with tiny pink flowers on it that was tied up backwards and far too short—most of his legs were showing. 

“Uh, I’m feeling better now,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. He gave dad a glance, like ‘a little help here,’ because he had no idea what they’d said to cover for him. 

Dumbledore had been silent on the subject, even after they finally let go of that dizzying portkey thing and got through the school’s magical wards, no one had breathed a word about ‘shinigami.’

Even though the word was on the cover of the Quibbler! 

Ichigo’s gaze, which had been roaming around, searching for some clue as to what to say, lit on the word. Though the headline was in English, ‘shinigami’ was even written again in kanji, the proper way, down the page, the characters emblazoned in bright red. The magazine cover had a picture of something really creepy—a black robed skeleton, holding a farm implement. Underneath the picture was the caption, “Japanese Grim Reaper Attending Hogwarts?!”

Wait, what? Did everyone know about him somehow? 

Dad, following Ichigo’s gaze, picked up the magazine and rolled it in his meaty fist. Ichigo tensed, almost expecting to have to dodge a swat, but, instead, Isshin just shook a finger at him, “That was a bad one, Ichigo. The longest illness you’ve had.”

Illness?

Right, okay. Ichigo guessed Dummo Dad must’ve actually pulled out his medical degree and used it to come up with a plausible excuse. Wow, Ichigo was momentarily almost impressed.

“Yeah, whew, what a doozie,” Ichigo said, playing along. His stomach made a growl, which was made extra uncomfortable by how badly he needed to use the bathroom. “Any chance, we can do this after a rest stop?”

“I’m concerned the disease might be progressing,” Madame Pomfrey said, waving Ichigo in the direction of a curtained off area. “Your father says it’s related to your magic use. The more you practice the sicker you get.”

“Whelp, I guess that means I’d better quit magic,” Ichigo said, pulling the curtain around him. Normally, he’d be far too mortified to piss into a pot with everyone standing around on the other side of a flimsy sheet, but he felt ready to burst. He tried to suppress a sigh once he lifted up the silly gown someone had put him in and let his bladder go. “Good thing dad’s here,” Ichigo continued, over the noise. “I can just go home with him.” 

“Quit?” Madame Pomfrey repeated, sounding stunned, “Just like that?”

Shaking himself off, Ichigo looked around for something to wipe his hands on. He found something labeled ‘moist towelette’ and ripped open the package. Afterward he tossed everything in the little waste paper basket beside the chamber pot, which was clearly magical since it’d made his pee disappear or maybe transformed into that strange rose-scented air he suddenly smelled.

Weird.

Yeah, the sooner out of here the better.

Ichigo pulled open the curtain, and said, “Okay, it’ll just take a minute to pack my stuff, and then we can go.”

“You need professor Dumbledore’s permission before you quit school,” Madame Pomfrey said. She actually wrung her hands together for moment before she added, “I’ll go fetch him. Don’t do anything rash! Stay right here!”

She dashed out the door. Leaving Ichigo with Karin and Isshin, both of whom were giving him a serious stink eye. 

Isshin, of course, said something inane. “I didn’t raise a quitter!”

Karin, of course, pulled no punches. “You’d leave me here alone, you twit!?”

“Look,” Ichigo said, switching back to Japanese since they were alone. “I suck at magic, okay? It’s like Ishida says. I’m either all on or all off and that’s no good for all this delicate spell work. You’ve got to have—“ah, what was that word?—“subtlety. Yeah, I’m just not subtle.”

“There’s an understatement,” Karin said with a snort.

Isshin scratched the top of his goofy-ass flattop. “Are you failing?”

“Yes?” Ichigo admitted reluctantly. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he tried not to pout as he muttered, “I’d like to see you try, you old goat.”

“Huh,” Karin mused to herself. “Finally something I’m better at.”

Ichigo uncrossed his arms with a sigh and felt a breeze at his backside. He twisted around to try to see how this crazy robe he’d woken up to was constructed. Ah, shit! There was a huge gap in the back with only a couple of ties holding things together. He’d been standing around showing off his butt crack! “Gods! This fucking place,” he snarled. “I hate everything about this whole—“

Ichigo’s rant was cut off by a crushing bear hug. Four arms wrapped around him and hugged him tightly… wait, four?

“You’re alive!” twin voices sounded in Ichigo’s ears. “We thought you were dead.”

“He does that,” Isshin explained. “Dies a lot. Nothing to worry about. That’s just our Ichigo! Always dying!”

Weirdly accurate, Ichigo thought.

“Well, don’t do it any more,” Fred said. George nodded vigorously as they stepped back to let Ichigo breath. “Seriously. It’s bloody scary.”

Karin smacked Ichigo’s head. “What do you say to your friends, you moron!?”

Karin’s tone was so reminiscent of Rukia that Ichigo automatically turned and gave the Weasley twins a deep bow. “Sorry.”

“I see London, I see France….!” Isshin sang.

“Could you not, Dad?” Ichigo said. “I mean, just once. Is that even possible?”

“Ah, your scolding reminds me fondly of my beloved Masaki,” Isshin crooned. “But your mother would be horrified that I’ve raised such a rude son! Introduce me to your friends, Ichigo!”

Friends? Oh, well, they were kind of. “Uh, Fred and George Weasley,” Ichigo said while gripping the back of his hospital gown. “This is the moron who thought it’d be awesome to name his firstborn son ‘strawberry.’”

“So, like, your da, then?” George asked. Fred elbowed his twin, “Yeah, he kind of looks like the fierce little Gryffindor, doesn’t he?” George looked skeptical, but nodded, “If hairier.” Fred smiled, “Take after your mum, eh, Berry?”

They were starting to look around and Ichigo frowned, knowing what question would come next.

“Didn’t come, your mum?”

“Can’t,” Ichigo said, matter-of-factly. “She’s dead. Uh, listen, guys, I kind of need to get dressed and stuff and maybe pack my bags.”

“Bags?” Fred asked. George added, “Going somewhere?”

“Ichigo is planning on being a record setter,” Dumbledore said, ducking in through the doorway, his pointy wizard hat nearly scraping the top of the doorframe. Yoruichi rode on the professor’s shoulders, like a black fur stole. “He’ll be Hogwart’s first ever auxiliary exchange student.”

Ichigo was pretty sure he knew the meaning of all those words separately, but he had no idea what they meant together. He wasn’t the only one. Everyone in the room said, “Huh?” or “What’s that?”

“It seems young Mr. Kurosaki has been called to active duty,” Dumbledore said. “His education will be deferred until the end of his service.”

“You’re a soldier?” George asked. But, then his brother whispered something in his ear, and suddenly George paled a little. He nodded, “Ah, right. We thought they were you-know-whats.”

Ichigo had no idea what George was talking about. Or Dumbledore for that matter. When had he enlisted in some army… oh, right, the Gotei was kind of a military organization, wasn’t it? So, technically, he was a kind of substitute soldier for the Soul Society. But, did this mean Aizen had attacked Karakura? Was that was Orihime’s postcard had implied with her frantic, ‘we’re fine here! Don’t worry!’?

“Yeah,” Ichigo said suddenly. “I should get back to training right away.”

Dumbledore gave Ichigo a stern look over the half-moon glasses. “And, when everything is over, you’ll come back here and finish your studies.”

When everything was over, he’d probably be dead. 

Well, he was dead half the time, anyway.

“Yeah, sure,” Ichigo said with a shrug. “I can do that.”

 

#

 

By sunset Ichigo was on the Hogwart’s Express headed back to London. Dummo Dad decided to stay a couple of extra days to get the full-tour of the place. He’d take something called ‘floo powder’ home. Ichigo waved good-bye from the window. A surprising number of students had gone to the gate to say good-bye. Most people told him how sorry they were that he was allergic to magic, and then told him how they knew someone’s great-aunt who had the same problem. His entire Hufflepuff house came down to see him off, as did bunch of Gryffindor, though from the hair, mostly Weasleys, a few curious Ravenclaw, and a bunch of Slytherin hecklers.

Ichigo flipped them off as the train started up.

He let Yoruichi out of her carrier and she hopped up on to his lap and curled into a tight ball. Petting her head, he said, “I told you we shouldn’t’ve bothered.”

“Mmmmm?” her deep masculine voice responded. “Nothing is wasted. You have British Allies now. Your sister is learning important skills. We might need magic that works against humans one day.”

“Humans?”

“Like Quincy,” she said, digging her paws into his thighs, kneading.

“Quincy? But there’s only one and he’s sort of kind of my friend.”

Yoruichi had either fallen asleep or was pretending to be snoozing. Her eyes were closed and she let out a cat-like huff. 

Watching the castle disappearing behind a setting sun, Ichigo opened his notebook. Propping it up against the window so not to disturb the snoring cat, he wrote:

 

> Dear Rukia,
> 
> Guess what? I’m headed back to London where I’ll stay with Yuzu for a couple of days until I can catch a plane back home. No more classes, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks!
> 
> At least until after the war with Aizen is over.
> 
> I know it’s weird to say, but I hope that means I’ll see you soon. That’d be cool. You have no idea how much I’ve missed all of you. I can’t wait to get back to decent sushi and Chad and Ishida and Orihime and Mizuiro and Tatsuki and the rest. ~~And even Keigo~~. Hey, if you do come? Try to drag along Renji and some of the other people from over there, will you? Except maybe Kenpachi. I think he still wants ~~to kill me~~ have a rematch.

Ichigo glanced out the window again, the castle little more than a shadowy-figure in the distance. The click-clack of the rails a rhythmic beat. 

> I hope Karin will be okay. She was pretty mad at being left behind, until Pops pointed out that she’d come back a wizard. I guess it was kind of important to her to be better at something than me, despite the fact she’s always kicked my ass in soccer. Plus, Dad and I—well, it was almost like we shared a look or something (weird, right?)—but anyway, I think we both figure she’s safe where she is.
> 
> Aizen’s war would never come all this way, right?

Ichigo frowned. Well, if it did, he’d just have to come here to fight. Maybe by then Karin could ‘Stupefy’ Aizen. Heh. That’d be kind of awesome.

> I'm not sure it's fair to say I'll miss this place, but there were some cool people there. Weirdly, I’m going to really miss those little house elves. They do my laundry and clean everything! And they finally learned how to make decent food! What’s not to love? Byakuya should get some. They’re like invisible servants.
> 
> See you soon. I kind of hate that we always meet when there’s like wars and stuff. Hogwarts would have been much cooler if you’d been here.
> 
> Love,  
>  Ichigo

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, and I forgot to thank Josey (cestus) for her help typo-ing and coming up with "THE END." Thanks to her! And to all of you who patiently waited for me to update this series. I am truly sorry to cut it short, but I felt bad updating so rarely and I feel like I've left it open-ended enough that there's room to return if the Muse should strike. Thanks for all your kudos and comments and support!


End file.
